


After the Kidnapping

by Her_Dark_Materials



Category: Scott & Bailey
Genre: Aftermath of Gill's kidnapping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Some angst, does this ending count as fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Dark_Materials/pseuds/Her_Dark_Materials
Summary: Scenes after Julie arrives at Sammy's engagement party to see Gill.
Relationships: Julie Dodson/Gill Murray
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Evening after: Sammy's Engagement Party

**Author's Note:**

> First fiction I ever wrote. Basically because I love Pippa Haywood as Julie Dodson, Amelia Bullmore as Gill Murray and I love their energy together.

Julie knocks lightly on the door to Gill’s bedroom before she pushes it open.  
When she hesitantly sticks her head into the room, she sees Gill reclining on the bed, turning her head wearily towards the door. In the gloomy light, Julie can just make out a small, tense smile in the corners of Gill’s mouth when she recognizes Julie as her newest visitor. 

“Hiya” Julie says in a quiet voice – too quiet, really - as she steps into the room. She looks around briefly – noting the half- empty gin bottle on the nightstand – then sits down on the edge of the bed. “Hiya” Gill replies, her voice still rough from having been restrained by a leather belt for several hours.

Her eyes are focused on Julie. She doesn’t seem particularly drunk. She does radiate tension and wariness. 

“How are you holding up?” Julie asks, smoothing the bedspread repeatedly under her palm. She tries not to let too much concern show in her voice. Gill looks so small and fragile there on the bed, in her soft cardigan over her smart dress, her hair mussed from lying down. Gill is petite, but usually she is all hard lines and poise. 

Over the years, Julie has seen her softer, vulnerable side a few times throughout their friendship. Especially when Gill kicked Dave out. When she finally admitted to the world that she hadn’t been ignorant of the fact that her husband cheated on her for years.. Julie felt so angry at the bloody bastard on Gill’s behalf, but she never divulged how many people at the syndicate she overheard sniggering or gossiping about how ironic it was that sharp-tongued Murray, who didn’t let the small stuff slide, was so blind in her private life. Gill probably knew that better than she let on anyhow. During the divorce proceedings they sat in Gill’s living room emptying bottles more than once, especially during that week in 2008 when Sammy was away in football camp with his mates. And Gill had been in tears more than once as well, but her outburst were always short, mixed with anger and inevitably she would breath in resolutely and compose herself, as if to say “better just get on with it.” Yes, most of the time, even at those moments when she was hurt and low, Gill gave the impression of ultimately being unbreakable. But now...

Julie feels her stomach sink. She wants to reach for Gill – not just hold her, but crush her to her chest and make sure she is real, is okay. Instead she forces herself to exhale a little unsteadily. Gill is not a touchy-feely person, and as much as they shamelessly flirt with each other and insult each other in equal portions, Julie has always been a bit careful, for her own sake as well, if she is honest with herself, not to overstep. If you don’t get your hopes up, you can’t get disappointed. 

She lifts her eyes from the duvet, where her hand continues to smooth over the cloth, to look at Gill’s face directly, trying to pin down the emotions there behind the brave front. Gill looks exhausted, but also defensive. When Julie and Gill shared difficult situations and heartbreak before, they offered each other compassion by making each other smile, and by conspiratorially bitching about the twats who made their lives hell – assuring each other that no matter what the rest of the world thinks, everyone else can just all go to hell because they will not be made to back down. But now she feels like she is intruding. Like Gill would prefer for her not to be there. 

She feels a twinge of disappointment, and something almost like anger, just for a second before she reminds herself to cut Gill some slack – after an ordeal like today, surely all bets are off.  
And yet - fifteen minutes ago she rushed frantically to her car, to finally get away from the paperwork in the office to see Gill. Sammy had invited her to the engagement party weeks ago, but sod the party, she is driving there solely to see Gill, not on a screen, but in person - see her face, make sure she is okay. 

She rings the bell and when one of Sammy’s mates opens the door, she immediately pushes her way through the guests looking for Gill. She runs into Janet and Rachel at the bottom of the stairs. They greet her and tell her that Gill is upstairs, in her bedroom, but doing okay – has rallied admirably, even dressed up for the party– even if everyone would have understood if she had cancelled the party altogether. Rachel seems on edge, but then that seems to be her default setting. Janet is calmer, composed, giving her an encouraging smile. “Go on, then. She’ll be glad to see you”  
And now Julie is finally in the same room with Gill, but it still feels as if her friend is just out of reach. And from where Julie is standing, it doesn’t seem like Gill was particularly keen to see her.

When Gill doesn’t answer her initial question, only looks straight at her, with a little resigned hand gesture – Julie continues, “people seem to be enjoying themselves downstairs. Dave is certainly getting on gettin’ pissed.” The knowing smile or snide comment she hoped to elicit from Gill with that remark doesn’t follow. She only nods, absentmindedly. Then she says, her voice rough and as if coming from a great distance, “Would you. . . “ she clears her throat. “Could you get me a glass of water maybe?” 

“Sure” – Julie jumps up from the bed, grabs the empty glass on Gill’s bedside table and takes it into the adjacent bathroom where she runs the faucet until the water turns fully cold. She fills up the glass, notices her hand is trembling slightly. She rolls her tense shoulders once, hits the light switch on the way out, and sets down the glass next to Gill. “There you go –.” She wants to add something warm, endearing, lighthearted, like Love, or Slap but the sudden lump in her throat makes it impossible.

She sits back down on the bed, this time close enough to Gill to touch her. Unnerved by the still palpable distance, by her own sentimentality, she reaches out and gives Gill’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Gill’s fingers are cold, and a bit clammy. 

Gill pulls her hand away almost immediately, only halfway succeeding in making it look as if that’s because she’s reaching for the glass. She takes a few sips. Sets it back down. Then she clears her throat, looking straight at Julie. Her lips form a hard line. “I was absolutely daft. . . . I should have locked the car . . I am supposed to be a DCI, for God’s sake, I should have been more perceptive . . .” As she speaks, two red spots appear on her pale cheeks. Her tone is harsh as she rushes out the sentences - almost as if she is accusing Julie of the events rather than explaining herself. Julie realizes with a shock that Gill is embarrassed, ashamed. That she really thinks the whole thing is somehow her own fault.  
Gill seems truly irritated now,” I could have spared you all this useless ordeal . . .” Her voice catches, “and Helen - she could be alive” - she shoots a glare at Julie’s surprised expression – then frowns at the duvet. 

With a flash of anger Julie finds herself standing again, unintentionally towering over Gill. “Now, look, you really are daft if you think for one second that this is somehow down to you. She was mental. . . . she . . . nobody made her do that. . . you didn’t give her an opportunity” Julie’s voice is getting louder. “I know we disagreed on her involvement in the whole thing but - you didn’t enable her. She . . . I am so. . . bloody mad at that bitch,” – she hisses the last word. Then, as if the wind has been knocked out of her, she sinks back down on the bed, setting her jaw, against the threatening tears. 

Julie is so livid, she finds all her earlier compassion for Helen’s situation gone. She knows it’s unfair, knows that Helen’s troubles are not Helen’s fault, that she’s a victim, too, but the cold panic she kept at bay all day, in the RED center, now hits her hard. She could have lost Gill. And what Helen did to her – how she reduced this brilliant, fantastic, beautiful woman to a pale and hard state of shame . . . 

Suddenly, nausea overwhelms her and she stumbles back into the bathroom, convinced she is going to be sick, and sinks onto her knees in front of the toilet, cold sweat on her forehead and back. She gags several times, but nothing more happens. Finally, she sits back on the hard floor, dizzy, but thankfully the nausea ebbs slowly, and she tries to calm her breathing, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. 

Then she feels Gill’s hand squeeze her shoulder. A moment later Gill is kneeling down next to her, a wet washcloth in her hand. Pushing strands of Julie’s hair softly out of her face, she dabs her forehead with the wet cloth. The coolness feels heavenly. “Oh, love. . . ” Gill says, all hardness, all defensiveness gone from her voice. 

Julie realizes that Gill must have jumped out of bed to take care of her, that she has worried her, after the hell of a day she already had. “I am sorry. . . I. . . ”  
“It’s alright, love. I’m sorry I upset you so. . . “ Gill cuts her off, regret clearly audible in her soft voice.

“No, I. . . don’t you get it, you didn’t upset me. . .” Julie almost wails the sentence at Gill. “You. . . were brilliant. . .” her voice drops to a whisper “you are perfect. . . you are – ” and then, without being able to do anything to stop herself, Julie bursts into sobs. She lifts her hands to hide her face, to stop her tears, she tries to apologize, “I’m sorry.”  
Small wiry arms come around her as Gill, who scooted up to her next to where she is still unceremoniously sitting on the floor by the toilet, pulls her close.  
“I am here, love. I am here.” Stroking her hair, her back. And Julie clings to her, trying to stop weeping. Really, their positions should be reversed, she should be the one to offer comfort, but at the same time all the hopelessness, the panic, the tension comes crashing down on her, condensed in the single thought “I almost lost her,” and she cannot do anything but hold on to Gill.

And underneath the panic and the relief, rises once more the realization which she so long successfully kept at bay – buried underneath the constant banter, and the firm reminders to herself that Gill is her best friend, isn’t interested in anything else – the realization that their friendship has long been a different kind of love for her. 

That realization breaks down years’ worth of walls Julie carefully built around her deeper feelings – and now she desperately needs to explain to Gill, to make her understand the unbearable pain of the thought of loosing her, of loosing her without ever having told her.

So lifts her head, snot and tears running down her face, and looks at Gill who is smiling fondly at her, but who also looks tender, and deeply troubled, her eyes treacherously shiny as she keeps tucking wayward strands of Julie’s hair behind her ears. 

Then she reaches behind Julie, rips off some toilet paper and holds it out to her with a small smile. Julie takes it and blows her nose, before taking the still-damp washcloth, wiping her face, haphazardly. She opens her mouth, looks up at Gill’s open expression. She takes Gill’s hand, still wanting to explain the forcefulness of her outburst but all the words that come out of her mouth are a hoarsely whispered “You are perfect.”

Gill smiles then, truly. Bringing a palm to Julie’s cheek, she leans forward, closing the small remaining distance between them, and placing a very tender kiss on Julie’s mouth. Exhaling softly, her lips remain on Julie’s just a little too long for the kiss to be misunderstood as one between friends. 

Gill pulls back slowly, and Julie can feel herself gaping at her. Gill’s expression now is completely open and vulnerable, and a little hesitant. She speaks slowly, as if remembering events from a dream. “I told Rachel and Janet I would be okay. . . but. . . “ – she reached for Julie’s hand again, as if for reassurance.

“I am not . . . sure. . . I will be. . . I don’t think I will be for a while. . .” Julie squeezes Gill’s hand.  
Gill continues, “The party should be winding down soon. . . will you. . . would you. . . will you stay with me. . . tonight?”

And Julie can hardly breathe, because of the kiss, because of the question, because of Gill’s proximity. She almost doesn’t dare to move for fear of dissolving this moment, but she also knows that whatever Gill asks, she can’t deny her anything. And despite the confusion raging inside her she somehow she gets a hold of just enough of her professional superintendent Dodson persona to pushes herself off the bathroom floor, and extend a hand to Gill to help her up. 

“Come on, lady . . . Let’s get you to bed”

Julie stands behind Gill, unzipping her dress and handing her an oversized sleep shirt off a peg by the dresser as Gill wearily struggles out of the dress. Gill shivers when Julie’s knuckles briefly graze Gill’s warm back in the process. There’s a strange intimacy to the moment and Julie is glad Gill is facing away from her and can’t see her hands trembling. As Gill crawls into bed Julie shimmies out of her own office pants, leaving on her knickers and soft jumper. She’s spent various nights at Gill’s before, and they’ve shared a bed before – when they first became friends after nights out at the pub, and then during the worst times of the divorce. Julie tries to remind herself, that this is not unknown – and yet, all those times were not like this –  
She forces her focus back on Gill – Gill who needs her presence, not her doubts.

She gets into bed, pulling the covers over both of them before pulling Gill close to her, protectively. “Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here.”


	2. The Day After:

Julie listens to Gill’s breathing thankfully evening out as she drifts off to sleep. She feels absolutely knackered herself from the day’s events. But then there’s the fact that this absolutely mad rollercoaster of a day culminated in that kiss and what on earth was that kiss? The preciousness of that moment, and the way Gill held her, looked at her - the hope that it will happen again, the fear that it will not. The uncertainty of what it means, that kiss. She pushes the thought aside. It isn’t important as long as Gill is okay, is alive. An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness floods her, and she has to stop herself from holding Gill tighter. From the downstairs muffled laughter seeps upstairs. And then, despite her still reeling mind, exhaustion overtakes her and she drifts off to sleep as well. 

Julie wakes up sometime later, from a kick to the shin and a whimpering sound. She forces her eyes open and realizes she is in Gill’s room, in Gill’s bed, and the whimpering is coming from Gill, next to her. She reaches out to touch her carefully without startling her. “Love, you’re alright. Common, you’re safe” She tries to keep her voice even, comforting, and lightly strokes Gill’s hair, and her damp cheek. “Shhh. You’re safe. It’s over.” The whimpering stops and Gill abruptly stills completely. Whether she is actually still asleep, or just pretends to be, Julie can’t tell. She continues stroking her hair, softly. “Are you alright, love?” she whispers, but receives no answer. She listens to Gill’s breathing which doesn’t become as deep as before, but at least regular again. The house is quiet now. Sammy’s and Orla’s guests must have left. It is 3:34 in the morning, according to the little radio clock on Gill’s bedside table. Julie closes her eyes, conscious of Gill’s warm form next to her, and tries to relax, but she cannot fall asleep again.

When she finally gives up on sleep, even though she feels exhausted still, the radio clock on the bedside table says 5:08. Behind the curtains she can see the first daylight beginning to filter in. The memory of the kiss comes flooding back once again. It was really more of a touch of the lips, so soft – but lingering, full of intention.   
But what intention? They both were emotionally all over the place - maybe Gill just needed . . . to be reassured that she was still there, basic human touch – contact, an anchor. Will Gill even remember? And if she remembers, will she be embarrassed? At the kiss – at the way that Julie has all but confessed her love, incoherently and splotchy from crying, but yet . . . When she wakes up, will the invincible Gill be back? All shield and poise and without tolerance for sentimentality? 

Of course it would be easy enough to shrug it off as a fluke, brought on by alcohol and distress, or to pretend it had never happened. But dammit Julie doesn’t want to forget or pretend. She wants it to happen again. 

Just at the moment, Gill shifts in bed, away from her, with a soft sigh, but for all Julie can tell now deeply asleep. Suddenly being in that bed feels unbearable. She needs to get out, not only of the bed, but out of the room. She needs a strong coffee, and a shower. Since she doesn’t want to wake Gill by running the water, the shower is not an option for now. But slowly and steadily disentangling herself from the bedding, Julie stands up and slips very quietly into her rumpled work pants and tiptoes out of the room. She feels slightly guilty for leaving Gill alone, but the other woman gives no sign of having heard Julie’s movements. She sleeps on. 

Julie quietly walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. There are some half-empty glasses and bottles standing around, and a full rubbish sack leans in the corner, but otherwise Sammy and Orla seem to have cleaned up fairly well. 

Julie has a bit of a headache from the lack of sleep and she grabs a fresh glass, filling it with cold tab water and drinking it down before putting the kettle on. She looks carefully through the cupboards until she finds the coffee and prepares the French press so that the coffee will be extra strong. 

When it has steeped for 10 minutes, she pours herself a cup and just stands by the kitchen window, cradling the steaming mug in her hands, staring out at the grey and wet street. She drinks the first sips black, then opens the fridge where she locates the milk carton in between precariously stacked platters of leftover finger food from the party. 

She hears the toilet flush in the back of the house and momentarily freezes. Then she hears Sammy’s bedroom door click shut again and lets out a breath. Sammy won’t be surprised she stayed over – but after what happened she feels flustered and doesn’t quite know how she will face him. She’s known Sammy since he was a toddler. They’ve always gotten along well – he is like a nephew to her – but what would he think if he found out that she is absolutely – she sighs – absolutely, inanely besottedly in love with his mom? That’s what it is, there is no way around it. Except – if Gill decides that this isn’t what she wants – and then . . . well then what Dodson? You might be SOL then, Julie thinks grimly. She has no indication to believe that Gill is interested in women. They flirt a bit for fun now and then, but as far as Julie knows Gill has only ever dated men. Got married to one, too, even though he turned out to be a particularly worthless specimen. Latest, she was going out with Chris, some young DS that Julie only met once, briefly in the hallways. But mostly Gill kept busy enough with the work, just like Julie. 

Julie dated a few women off and on over the last years, but really, apart from Nina none of the relationships were long term. She still misses Nina sometimes, her wild curls, her open smile. Nina was an IT specialist, with her own firm, so she had understood late nights. She also had gorgeous freckles and reddish hair. But, after they’d lived together for two years, she got the chance to move to London. How could Julie tell her not to take it, when she herself was so committed to her job? Ultimately, Nina’s new life there won out over long-distance. Julie shakes her head slightly, remembering how Gill called her “love” squatting next to her in the bathroom – which wasn’t entirely unusual, but she’s never done so with so much direct tenderness in her voice. 

They will have to talk about it – even though Julie dreads this – if they do not forever want to be awkwardly shuffling around each other from now on. But Gill will have other things on her mind. She will have to go back in tomorrow and give a proper statement. And Julie still has tons of paperwork waiting for her. The press fallout will be horrendous and she can only hope that they won’t badger Gill too much. Not bloody likely.

She considers quietly leaving the house – simply going home and taking that shower she wants so badly. But that will likely give Gill the impression she is running away, or has gotten fed up, or is regretting everything herself. It’s not an option. 

It is coming up on 6 o’clock now. Gill usually wakes up latest at 6:15 and Julie knows that even on days off she rarely manages to sleep in. She takes another mug from the cupboard and pours Gill a cup of coffee, refilling her own as well. She adds milk to both, though only a dash to Gill’s and then carefully, a cup in each hand, makes her way back upstairs again. 

She pushes the door open with her elbow and sneaks in. Gill doesn’t seem to have moved, but as Julie sets down the cups on the nightstand, Gill stirs, blinks and opens her eyes. The room is now dimly lit by the increasing daylight that filters in through the curtains. 

“Jules?” As Gill shifts herself up on her elbows, Julie extends a cup to her. “I brought you a brew,” she says.   
“Thank you” Gill answers, taking it. 

Julie lowers herself on the edge of the bed, and they both sip their coffee quietly for a moment. Julie tries to read Gill’s expression without too obviously scrutinizing her, the angry red welts on her throat, where the belt has been, or the bruise on her temple. Gill seems lost in thought, momentarily. “Good,” she says then, nodding towards her cup. “Really needed that, Thanks.” And then she smiles at Julie. 

A little hesitantly maybe, but it still makes Julie’s heart skip a beat.   
“How are you feeling?” Julie asks. She means with regard to the kidnapping, but her pulse nevertheless begins to race at the realization that potentially she is only a moment away from having to talk about last night. 

“I am . . . I’ve been better, honestly.” Gill says. “I don’t want to face the day, but. . . I suppose there’s no help for it”

Julie nods, taking another sip from her cup.   
“I suppose the downstairs is a mess – once Sammy and Orla get up we’ll have a right cleaning to attend to probably” Gill scoffs. 

“No, actually – it looks like they did a good job cleaning up most of it already” Julie answers, feeling like only half her mind is attending the conversation, and then suddenly the strong urge to get away returns.

“I should probably. . . ” she begins, setting her mug down.   
“Julie” Gill says at the same time. Her expression is serious. Gill hardly ever calls Julie by her proper first name. She swallows.

“Thank you for staying. Last night” Gill says, still glancing earnestly at Julie, who ducks her head a little, embarrassed by the warmth heating her cheeks. “Yes, sure, I. . .sure.” 

Gill also sets her mug down, and moves over across the bed next to where Julie is sitting. She puts her hand on Julie’s bare forearm. Her touch is warm and makes Julie’s skin tingle. 

“I was a little all over the place last night,” Gill begins – “and so were you, if we’re being honest” –   
Julie sets her jaw, looking Gill directly in the eyes, refusing to look away. “Here we go then,” she thinks, feeling her stomach plummet. 

“So I hope you will forgive me,” Gill continues, giving Julie that small, hesitant smile again.   
“I really have to get home” – Julie interrupts, before she can stop herself, standing up. She’s not ready to hear this. She can’t.   
Gill looks up at her, taken aback – the lines in her face hardening. “Okay” – she says quietly, “don’t let me keep ya.” Hurt. 

“I am sorry – I . . . you . . . “ Julie grabs her purse from the floor. “I really. . .” and she turns towards the door. 

“Julie” – Gill stands up, reaching for Julie’s arm again.   
“Ya?” Julie says more sharply than she means to. She hates herself for being so completely unnerved, so inarticulate, but right now she just wants to get out of the house before she makes an even bigger fool of herself by breaking down crying again. 

“Julie Dodson, have I done something that I shouldn’t have?” Gill asks her, looking at her levelly.   
“I . . . . what?” Julie asks confused. Does she not remember?

“I . . . yesterday, I apologize if what I did was. . . unwelcome.” Gill pauses. “It was . . . honestly one hell of a day, but . . . I am sorry I have to tell you that this. . .   
my . . . kissing you . . . that was ...” Gill swallows hard. Then she squares her shoulders, “it was not an accident, or a fluke or . . . I can’t quite explain it myself, but it just became very clear to me that I had this brilliant, kind, and absolutely stunning woman in my life and that I must be absolutely mad, to have never realized before how much I really, really wanted to kiss her –” 

Julie feels rooted to the spot, not entirely sure she has understood correctly. 

“ – and ask her to stay” – Gill continues, then take a deep breath, “But if what I did was unwelcome, if you don’t feel the same - then I apologize,” Gill says earnestly, standing now very close to Julie. “You know, I respect you too much to – I would never –”   
It seems to Julie that Gill’s eyes are glistening with tears though she can’t be entirely sure in the faint light of the room. 

“Gill” she interrupts her. “Shut up.”  
And then she is kissing her – she is kissing Gill again, and Gill is kissing her back. Hands roaming over each other’s backs, shoulders, arms, fingers tangling into each other’s hair. Gill is all angular but soft and she tastes like coffee, and her lips are warm, and her mouth is delicious, and holding Gill and kissing Gill is an entire world of its own. 

They sink down on the bed again, holding on to each other. Julie fully dressed, Gill in her oversized sleep shirt. “None. . . “ Julie says, flushed, “none of this is unwelcome, love.” 

And Gill flashes her a brilliant smile before she says, a little breathless, “go on, then.”


End file.
